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Had Leighton and Lawlor burned the same thing? If so, what was it? What co
Quietly, Harvath moved past a butler’s pantry into the laundry and storage room that doubled as Frank Leighton’s home office. He looked at the pictures pi
A quick perusal of the contents in the sole desk drawer produced the usual bank and mortgage statements, all in Leighton’s name, as well as a recentto do list. While several of the items had been checked off, other items such aspick up dry cleaning andhaircut were devoid of check marks. Several unpaid bills also lay in the drawer, their due dates drawing nigh. It all contributed to the picture of yet another very hasty departure.
As Harvath sat down to examine the computer, which had finally completed its startup, something on a shelf across from the desk caught his eye. An ornately painted beer stein held a handful of pens and colored pencils. He rolled the chair over to the bookshelf and removed the mug. The front featured a detailed relief of “Checkpoint Charlie”-the former border control checkpoint between East and West Berlin with the phrase, “You are now leaving the American sector,” in English, Russian, French, and German. Oddly enough, at the very bottom of the mug where it flared out, was wrapped a piece of barbed wire. What was even more interesting, was that as odd a drinking vessel as it was, Harvath had seen one just like it before in Gary’s kitchen.
He remembered Lawlor getting on the subject of beer steins one night and telling Harvath that because of the bubonic plague and subsequent health ordinances of the sixteenth century, all food and beverage containers in Germany were required by law at that time to be covered to protect their contents. To make them easy to open and close with one hand, the Germans had devised a hinged lid with a thumb-lift.
As Harvath now turned the mug around, he saw the same inscription on the back as on Gary’s. It was a passage written in German entitled, “Für die Sicherheit.” Translating into English, he read it aloud and said, “For the Security. If one of us is getting tired, somebody else is watching over. If one of us starts doubting, somebody else is believing with a smile. If one of us should fall, somebody else will stand for two. God will give a companion to every fighter.”
Though it was the second time in his life he had read the inscription, Harvath still had no idea what its significance was. The one and only time he had asked about it, Gary had shrugged it off as a simple memento of his time spent overseas.
As he took a closer look, Harvath noticed that the stein appeared to have been commissioned by a pub called theLeydicke because its name was not only engraved upon the lid, but was also painted on the bottom, along with a serial number. Leighton’s was number seven of only twelve. Harvath wasn’t about to risk another trip back to Lawlor’s house, but he was sure that if he did, he would find that the same barbed-wire-wrapped stein resting above Gary’s kitchen cabinets was a perfect match for Frank Leighton’s. It probably also had a serial number from the same batch.Had Leighton and Gary known each other in Berlin?
Scot set the stein back in its place and rolled himself back over to the computer when he heard it chime. Leighton’s web browser had opened to an Internet weather site that had been established as his home page. Clicking on the tab next to the address field, Harvath dropped down a list of the most recently visited web sites. At the top of the list was American Airlines. Scot clicked on the link and moments later was transported to their home page. The site recognized that it was being accessed by Leighton’s computer and asked him to enter his password. Harvath took a couple of incorrect stabs before the site finally shut him down.
He scrolled through Leighton’s Outlook Express and found nothing out of the ordinary. Like everyone else with a computer, Leighton was plagued with electronic junk mail. Harvath was about to give up when he noticed that Leighton had received an auto-confirmation email from American Airlines for a roundtrip ticket purchase to Stockholm, Sweden. The ticket had been issued in the name of Johan Saritsa for same day travel three days ago. The return was set for a month later, but Harvath figured the date was probably bogus and the return flight would go unused.
Leighton obviously had not anticipated an automatic email confirmation of his flight purchase. Now, Harvath had the alias he was traveling under and with a couple of well placed phone calls, would be able to get the full credit card number Leighton had used to pay for his flight. The haystack had not necessarily gotten any smaller, but the needle had just gotten a little bit bigger.
Harvath was about to turn on the printer and print out a copy of the flight confirmation, when he heard something from the kitchen. With barely a sound, he was out of the chair with his SIG Sauer drawn. Someone was in the house.
He pulled the night vision goggles from his backpack, powered them up and put them on. Leighton could have returned, but he doubted it. His gut told him somebody else was inside and he had learned long ago that his gut was seldom wrong.
Hugging the wall of the laundry room, he focused on slowing his breathing. He counted to three and then button-hooked around the laundry room door into the short hall leading to the kitchen. With his pistol out in front of him, he swept it along with his eyes from left to right and back again.Nothing. Could he have imagined it?, he wondered as he moved cautiously forward. Maybe it was just the heater kicking on. It had been getting progressively colder in the house and part of him had been willing the old Cape Cod to warm up.
As he neared the kitchen, he stopped for a moment and listened. He could hear what sounded like air blowing through the heating vents. Maybe it was the heater after all.
Just at that moment, the door to the butler’s pantry exploded open, and before Harvath could react, someone knocked him onto the floor. The figure clutched furiously at Harvath’s right hand, trying to tear away his weapon.
Harvath fought back hard, delivering several sharp punches to the man’s kidneys. The intense pain caused the man to let up on his assault, and that was the edge Harvath needed.
He pushed himself away from his attacker and struggled to regain his feet. His mysterious assailant, though, was faster. The man lashed out with a sweeping kick that took Harvath’s legs right out from under him. He hit the floor hard, with his head crashing into the wall, which sent his night vision goggles flying. The pistol, though, was still grasped tightly in his hand.
The only thing he was seeing were stars and all he could do was point his sidearm in the direction he believed his attacker to be. As he did, there was the quickschlink of what sounded like two pipes being fitted together, followed immediately by the sound of something slicing through the air. It was only as his assailant’s telescoping baton hit Harvath’s pistol and knocked it from his hand, that he fully realized what the noises had been.
Harvath pulled his new Benchmade Auto AXIS knife from his pocket and depressed the button, which swung the blade up and locked it into place, but it was knocked from his hand as well. As an added measure, his attacker delivered a searing blow to the upper thigh of his right leg with the tactical baton.